


we'll all float along with everything

by shou



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anxiety, Connor smokes a Weed, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Holding Hands, Late Night Conversations, Love Confessions, M/M, bc evan is like that, sorta - Freeform, thats all folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-19 20:57:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15518433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shou/pseuds/shou
Summary: Whatever song is playing now is one Connor has played enough for Evan to be familiar with, and even if he doesn’t know all the lyrics, he can at least hum along to the bits he doesn’t know and even mouth along with the chorus. Closing his eyes, he tilts his head back against his seat and loses himself in the loud instrumentals and confusing lyrics.-Connor and Evan go for a night drive and there might be some really bad kissing.





	we'll all float along with everything

**Author's Note:**

> i hate titling works haha i chose random rad face lyrics  
> hmmm wow i finally wrote deh fanfiction  
> anyway.  
> listen to any radical face album while reading this itll help the Tone  
> (i was listening to frontbottoms for the first 1k words or so and rad face for the rest, so)

This doesn’t surprise Evan anymore. The ringer on his phone is only turned on at night, so if Connor drop calls him, he can be awake and on his porch in ten minutes. Seven minutes ago the annoyingly loud custom ring tone Connor set for himself startled Evan awake, which means he’s now shifting from foot to foot right outside his own door, clutching at the sleeves of his (well, not his) hoodie and staring at the street in anticipation. Every single house is dark, and his porch’s light isn’t on, and Evan really doesn’t like the dark, so he’s definitely on edge. 

But then the bright flash of headlights catches Evan’s eye, and he practically skips down the steps and across his lawn to wait by the curb. It’s a familiar action; these midnight drives are something Evan is used to by now. He knows not to question Connor, he knows they won’t be going anywhere specific. Once Connor’s car slows to a stop, Evan quickly pulls the door open and hops inside. He’s greeted with the loud music Connor always plays quieting for a minute, and he can _feel_ Connor’s gaze on him. 

“Nice sweatshirt.” 

“Nice-oh god, right! This is-here, um. Sorry!” Evan’s sputtered response is embarrassing and partially muffled by fabric as he tries to yank the dark blue hoodie over his head. It doesn’t work, because then there’s a hand reaching over and pulling it back down. “I didn’t want to forget it, um, because you kn-know me-aha, ha-so forgetful, so I wore it, and...”

Shadowed eyes watch him, and Evan’s stammered explanation dies on his tongue. He’s about to apologize, but then Connor smiles, just a tiny bit, and something inside Evan’s chest feels like it might’ve just died. 

“I left it at your place for you to wear. Relax.” Connor’s words seem to steal the breath out of Evan’s chest, and he can do nothing but click his seatbelt and sit back as Connor turns up the music and pulls away from the curb and out towards the back roads. 

Streetlights flash by, illuminating the car in washed out golden intervals, like a lazy strobe light, giving Evan little snippets of time to watch Connor. 

One flash, and Evan catches sight of the loose ends of hair that have slipped free of Connor’s sloppy up-do. 

Another gives Evan a split second to watch the way Connor’s lips look mouthing to the lyrics of the song. He never sings, and Evan has actually no idea if he doesn’t because he simply can’t or because he doesn’t want to. 

An extra long flash, extended by the way Connor slows at a red light that quickly turns to green gives Evan enough time to watch as Connor brings his fingers to his mouth, and there’s a flash of teeth from behind curled back lips as he nibbles at his own cuticle. It’s fascinating and makes Evan want to reach out and investigate the chewed upon cuticle because he knows that sometimes, this action will make Connor’s fingers bleed. The light also catches on the shiny silver rings on his right-hand pinky and pointer.

Three long, torturous seconds later, Evan’s gaze has snapped back to outside his window. 

Four turns and two stop lights later, Evan feels the car start to accelerate, and he realizes it’s been a few minutes since a streetlight lit up the car, which means they’ve reached the winding back roads. Trees flash by, tall and imposing and all sharp edges and dark shadows, nothing like the comforting apple orchard or the clustered birches and oaks and maples he’s used to at the park. Their trunks are pale and ghostly in the white light of the car’s high beams, and even if the sight of them makes Evan want to shrink away so whatever monsters lie within their darkness can’t see him, he only leans closer to his window, watching with a blank stare as the forest drags by and disappears into the darkness behind them.

Whatever song is playing now is one Connor has played enough for Evan to be familiar with, and even if he doesn’t know all the lyrics, he can at least hum along to the bits he doesn’t know and even mouth along with the chorus. Closing his eyes, he tilts his head back against his seat and loses himself in the loud instrumentals and confusing lyrics. 

He’s so lost in the music he doesn’t notice Connor’s hand until it runs through Evan’s short hair, down the side of his head, over his ear, then around the back of his neck. It’s a lazy gesture, and it’s gone as soon as Evan notices it, but for a second, the warmth of Connor’s hand is all Evan can feel. 

The same hand hovers over the stereo, and the music’s volume dims. “Do you wanna go up to the top of Buchanan Hill?”Connor asks, shooting Evan an unreadable look from the corner of his eye. “I don’t wanna smoke with the car windows closed, and it’s clear as shit out, so you can stargaze or something.” 

Being around Connor when he smoked took some time to adjust to, but Evan is used to it now. He came to terms with the fact weed probably helps Connor more than harms him, and it’s better than slipping extra, unidentifiable meds into his usual ones, so Evan is mostly okay with it. He’s still pretty awkward about anything drugs related, but he tries, for Connor’s sake. 

“So, the hill? Yes or no?” 

Evan didn’t even realize he hasn’t responded yet. “Oh! Yes, sorry. Let’s go, yeah.” He gives Connor a shaky thumbs up, even if Connor is looking at the road and not him and it’s pretty dark in the car. 

They must have been pretty close to Buchanan Hill, because only two and a half songs play out before the car starts the upward climb, back and forth along the switchback road. Each turn is taken at a nerve-racking speed, and Evan grimaces and tenses up every time. But he trusts Connor’s driving and has accepted the harrowing, fast-paced style isn’t changing. That being said, Evan is still pretty tense when the car slows to a stop in the small, empty parking lot overlooking their city. 

The sky is inky black, the stars are only obscured by a few wispy clouds, and the moon is so high and bright it’s almost enough to see by. With a slow hum, the car stills and goes dark, the music cuts off suddenly, and it’s quiet enough Evan can hear the click when Connor turns the headlights off. Like this, there’s only the light of the moon and the faint glow from the city below. 

Since the car doors haven’t been opened yet, both of their windows slide down when Connor’s fingers press hard on the two switches on his driver side door. There’s some shuffling, a metallic click, the small glow of a flame, and the.. the thing hanging between Connor’s fingers glows. He still isn’t sure if it was a “joint” or a “blunt,” or maybe something else, or are they the same? But it definitely isn’t a cigarette. Evan watches, transfixed, as Connor breathes in, leans over, and breathes out the window. 

There’s a particular way his chest rises and falls when he smokes that makes Evan wonder if he could feel the heat of the smoke if he were to stick his hands up Connor’s shirt and place his (sweaty, clammy) palms on Connor’s chest. But that’s a weird thought, weirder than his normal thoughts, which are still pretty weird. So he looks away, because watching Connor smoke is probably creepy, and thinking about sticking his hands up Connor’s shirt is even creepier. 

Silence stretches between them. It’s not exactly awkward, since it’s a thing that happens a lot, what with both of them being terrible at small talk. But this silence feels a tiny bit different. Or maybe that’s just Evan projecting his own anxiety onto the moment. He does that a lot.

A light touch on his shoulder startles Evan, and when he looks over to ask Connor if something is wrong, he’s surprised to be met with Connor’s gaze, locked on him. 

Evan coughs. The hand pulls away. “Is there-um. Do I have something.. on my face, or? Do you want.. Uh. Y-your hoodie?”

Connor simply shrugs, takes another hit, and seems to almost reluctantly turn to lean out his window and blow the smoke out of his lungs. “Nope. You’re fine. I was just thinking about lame shit.” 

“O-oh, okay. Um. What.. what were you thinking about? N-not that you have to tell me! Sorry.” 

The hand is back again, running through his short hair, down the back of his head and even further down his neck, where it rests, heavy and warm, and Evan might actually die right then and there. But it does the trick of shutting him up. 

“I’ll tell you when I figure out how to say it.” It’s not a very satisfying response, but the low pitch and easy tone in Connor’s voice is surprisingly relaxing. Connor yells a lot, and Evan is used to it, even if it’s rarely directed at him. But it’s still comforting to hear him sound so… calm. That being said, it’s a pretty classical anxiety-inducing sentence, so Evan has to mentally tell himself that Connor is not about to end their friendship or something equally dramatic. 

“And no, I’m not going to say whatever that spiraling thoughts are telling you.” 

Evan lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in a single huffy, self-deprecating laugh. Sometimes he hates how well Connor can read him, when he still has trouble reading himself, and he thinks he definitely has no idea how to read Connor. And yet all it takes is an awkward pause for Connor to see straight through him. 

“I kn-know that,” he mumbles in response. “I’m just-it’s a-a um. The whole ‘We’ll talk about it l-later,’ thing, th-that’s, you know… It’s a pretty anxi-um-anxiety-inducing sentence?” Evan hates how he ends so many of his sentences like they’re questions, but somehow his words always end up trailing off in uncertainty, as if that’s ever going to make him sound more normal and less like the mess he usually is. 

An inhale, the orange spark glowing in the dark at Connor’s fingertips, an exhale, and the hazy smoke drifts away. Then Connor speaks again, this time turning towards Evan. 

“I’m not saying it because I don’t want to fuck it up,” he says, voice rougher than it was a second ago. And maybe it’s from the smoke, but something makes Evan think that’s not it. His hand is still on Evan’s neck, but Evan only notices because he pulls away and draws along his arm, down over the sleeve cuffs pulled over his fists to rest there, covering Evan’s curled fist, the dark material between their skin like a million barricades.

“Y-you won’t… You know. F-fuck it up.” Evan hates swearing, but he’s definitely gotten better at it since befriending Connor. And it usually makes Connor laugh. And sure enough, Connor barks out a sharp sound, coughing a second later. That makes Evan giggle, quiet at first, then louder when Connor glares at him, shrill and breathy, contrasting the hacking noise Connor seems to be making that’s somewhere between a laugh and a cough and it just escalates until Connor’s hand leaves his and he holds up a single finger second in a “pause” motion. Evan quiets slowly, but he’s still smiling. 

Connor breaths deeply. “Shit,” he mutters, once he has his breath again. He’s still glaring at Evan. But it’s a familiar glare, the one Evan catches whenever they’re having a good moment, like Connor is trying his hardest not to let the moment be one hundred percent happy. And since Evan knows it’s not a genuine glare, he keeps smiling. He might also be biting the inside of his cheek, towards the front of his mouth, to keep the smile under control.

After a few seconds of holding each other’s gaze, Connor looks away, and if it was light out and Evan could see him, or if he was confident in his ability to read Connor, he might think Connor is embarrassed. It’s in the slight hunch of his shoulders, in the way Connor grinds the blunt (joint?) against a paper napkin in the cup holder and drops the now snuffed thing into his jacket pocket. It’s in the way he’s not looking at Evan, but he’s not really looking at what he’s doing, either. It’s in the way his movements almost feel rushed, and the way his thumb is worrying at the ring on his pointer finger. 

“Look,” Connor finally growls, and that definitely means he’s embarrassed. “I had a plan, alright? Take you to the orchard, do whole shitty cliche thing where we walk around and wait till sunset and it’s fucking perfect or whatever, but nothing I do ever goes as planned, so here we are.” It’s more words than Connor’s said all night, which in itself is a little flag of some sort. The fact he won’t look at Evan is an even bigger flag. 

He wants to do something. He wants to help relieve the tension making Connor’s shoulders look sharper and sharper, making his jacket swallow him up, making his hands curl in on themselves and start to dig into his own palms. But Evan doesn’t know what to do, and rarely makes good decisions when it comes to this kind of thing, this fragile type of comfort. So he uncurls his fists and starts to reach out to Connor with the hand farthest away from the driver’s side, which means he has to turn his entire torso towards Connor. 

Connor’s gaze is on his hand in a flash, and the moon illuminates the whites of his eyes for a millisecond before they’re shadowed again. The tentative hand reaching for Connor stills and starts to draw back, but then Evan’s hand is caught in between both of Connor’s, and he makes a pretty undignified squeak when the sleeve of (not) his hoodie is pulled down and there’s a hot, _hot_ palm being fitted against his, and it’s amazing how well their fingers fit together and it’s amazing that Evan is still breathing.

“Words fucking suck.”

Evan would laugh, if his hand wasn’t literally pressed against Connor’s hand and if Connor’s other hand wasn’t literally hovering like it was about to go back up into his hair, which would definitely make him stop breathing. Instead, Connor opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, and Evan holds his breath, waiting for whatever is about to happen to happen. 

But all that happens is Connor’s head dips low, and the loose parts of his hair fall around his face, which isn’t enough to hide him but it’s enough to make Evan fail to notice what’s happening until there’s an unfamiliar touch on his knuckles, and _oh my god_ Connor just kissed his hand? Something definitely short circuits in Evan’s brain, and he’s left staring, not breathing, not blinking, as Connor sits back up. And this time he can definitely see a blush, and Connor’s pretty obviously clenching his jaw, and the hold on his hand is tighter because they’re both tense, and –

“I have no fucking clue how to say this,” are the words that are finally pushed through gritted teeth. “Fuck, this is hard.” Connor sounds genuinely frustrated now, and Evan hates it, because for a second there they were relaxed, and now Connor’s pretty obviously also overthinking this, and Evan needs to do something right now or he knows the moment will be broken when Connor’s own thoughts get the better of him. 

Evan makes a split second decision. Maybe it’s the fact Connor just kissed his hand, or maybe it’s the fact they’re literally holding hands and the entire night has felt different, like there’s something hanging over them like a dead weight, except that it could also be the keys to eternal happiness, it's just tense and hard to see through and makes breathing difficult. Whatever the reason is, without giving his heart time to beat again, Evan makes a split second decision. 

He lunges forward, yanking their interlocked hands closer and reaching out to Connor’s free hand and clutching at the sleeve and _pulling_ until their faces are only inches away, and then he kisses Connor.

It’s probably the worst kiss in all of human history. Evan’s kissing experience is very limited, and the barrier between the front car seats gets in the way, and Connor’s mouth is a hard, twisted line against his, but Evan doesn’t care. His brain is pure white noise as he presses their mouths together, clumsy and awkward and almost painful, but he doesn’t _care._ They’ve been dancing around this weird thing for too long, and Evan’s so tired of looking away and holding himself back, and he doesn’t know if another opportunity will come up to do this again any time soon. 

Of course, a second later, his brain reboots and his heart jump starts and the white noise disappears with a choking tide of sharp, staticky anxiety and Evan is yanking back, letting go of Connor’s sleeve and wincing as his back slams against the passenger door, but his hand is caught in Connor’s who _won’t let go._

And then he hears a surprised laugh come from Connor, and his vision focuses on the face of the boy he just (tried to) kiss, and all he sees is shock and surprise and a million other synonyms for those words but there’s also a smile slowly pulling at Connor’s entire face and his eyes are brightening and–

“Give a guy some warning next time, holy shit, Ev.” And Connor is laughing? He’s still holding Evan’s hand which is probably drenched in cold sweat, and his free hand is reaching up to cover his mouth as he honest to god _giggles._ “I can’t believe you got the guts to do that before me, what the fuck.” 

No words are going to get passed Evan’s closed throat, and his breathing is either so fast he can’t feel it or his lungs have completely frozen. 

“But that was a shit kiss, so I’m gonna do it again so it can be good.” 

That’s all the warning Evan gets before he’s being gently pulled forward, and there’s now a hand reaching forward and cupping around his neck and long lashes and wispy bits of hair and a thumb brushing along the edge of his hair and a mouth pressing against his _gently._ It’s so much more gentle than the first attempt at a kiss, and this time Connor’s mouth is parted slightly and it’s all very fast and Evan’s eyes are open when they probably shouldn’t be and it only lasts a second before Connor is gone again. 

“See? It’s better with some warning.” 

Evan nods. He doesn’t know what else to do. 

“You’re allowed to like, breathe.” 

He does, after a second of hesitating. He gasps and tries to fall back against the car door, but Connor doesn’t let him, and instead wraps an arm around Evan’s shoulders to pull him close. It’s pretty awkward, since they’re still holding hands and the divider between the seats gets in the way (again), but it only lasts for a few seconds before Connor lets go of him completely. 

“Let’s take you home,” he says, and Evan doesn’t even nod. He doesn’t know how to speak anymore, and he misses the feeling of Connor’s hand in his. All he can do is shoot little looks at Connor as the car starts, the headlights flare up, and they start reversing then turning to drive out of the parking lot.

Everything is a blur to Evan as he continues to do his utmost not to reach over and grab at Connor’s sleeve or his hand again. But that would be dangerous, since they’re driving, right? But then there’s Connor’s hand anyway, reaching out and tapping at one of Evan’s since he’s curled them into fists again without realizing it. He flips his hand over and uncurls his fingers, and the way Connor’s fingers interlock with his so naturally, like they’ve been doing it for months, makes his heart ache in the best way possible. 

Neither of them says anything as Connor starts to rub his thumb along Evan’s knuckles, steering with his left hand on top of the wheel, while Evan steals a tiny look at Connor. 

The dark makes it hard to see, but he can see Connor’s relaxed expression. He’s not smiling, but he has an almost soft look, and he’s mouthing along to the music since that started up again with the car. Connor’s not looking at him, and Evan looks away eventually, back to the ghostly trees and the open road, watching the double yellow stripe be eaten up under the hood of the car. He squeezes Connor’s hand once, and Connor squeezes back, and some tiny little thing in Evan’s chest that might be his happy-aching heart does a happy, fluttery little dance. 

The surprise and shock are still there, somewhere in the background alongside the eventual nerves and anxiety he knows will bubble back up. For now, though, in the dark of Connor’s car, as they hold hands and listen to whatever genre Connor’s music is called, Evan just lets himself be okay for a few minutes. Evan has no idea what the kiss (kisses? Did the first count?) will mean for them, but for a few minutes, he doesn’t think. He just sits back and breathes. 

For now, all that matters is the warmth of Connor’s hand against his own and the eerie trees and the curving road and the dark, dark night sky blanketing the comforting bubble of Connor’s car. 

**Author's Note:**

> HMMM WOWIIE THAT SURE WAS A THING  
> tumblr is 4hoots bc i have to say that  
> thanks for sitting through this folks


End file.
